


Ice in Her Veins, Fire in Her Heart

by loonyBibliophile



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, and drinking, basically anyway, costarring my questionable understanding of east coast weather
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-07
Updated: 2013-12-07
Packaged: 2018-01-03 21:55:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1073503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loonyBibliophile/pseuds/loonyBibliophile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roxy Lalonde was cold and bitter, like a bottle of cheap vodka left in the freezer. But, just like vodka, no matter how cold she is, she burns on the way down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ice in Her Veins, Fire in Her Heart

It is snowing in Rainbow Falls, but only barely. Roxy does not seem to notices the cold temperature or the softly falling snowflakes as the dot the roof of her house and drift into her disheveled hair. Her feet dangled over the edge, her bare toes painted with chipped red polish. Her toes themselves were red too, as were the tips of her fingers, wrapped around the neck of an almost empty vodka bottle, and the tip of her nose, and her cheeks. Despite the redness of her skin, she showed no signs of being cold. She was not shivery, and there were no goosebumps visible on her skin. She closed her eyes, and her face was all dark lashes, spidery with mascara, brushing pale cheeks colored only by the weather and lips rubbed free of black lipstick by the bottle. She exhales, her breath visible in the cold air had their been anyone there to see it. Her legs are bare below her skirt, and her arms are bare beyond the sleeves of her tshirt. Had she been less drunk, she might have heard the naggy voice in the back of her head, the one that sounded like every Saturday since she could remember, telling her to put on a sweater, step away from the edge of the roof, or better yet just go inside, but that particular voice had been buried by the ice cold vodka burning through her frosted veins. 

She raised the bottle to her lips, the old lipstick smudging back on her lips like a bruise. The vodka burns as it goes down, pooling heat in her chest, the only part of her that hasn't frozen over in the cold. When she drains the last of the liquid from the bottle's neck, she looks to suddenly become aware of the snow around her, stopping to scoop some of it between her red, chapped fingers. The cold burned her hands, but not in the same way the vodka burned in her chest. Uncaring, or perhaps her hands are simply numb, she drops the bottle off of the roof, watching as it tumbles down and shatters in the snow on the ground below. 

Soon enough the ice in her veins cancels out the warm heat of the alcohol and she suddenly remembers how little she has. An absent mother, cold and distant and too high for her to reach up to. A best friend who doesn't quite believe her when she tries to tell her how sad she is and how much she is alone. Another best friend whose obliviousness was endearing but prevented him from being anything resembling helpful in these situations. And then she had a best friend who threatened to melt the ice in her blood, letting the fire sneak out of her heart, with a voice like the sunrise and arms like Texas sun in the middle of July and who smelled like heat and summer and home. 

Groaning audibly, she clapped her hands over her eyes, falling back onto the snow covered roof, not noticing or not caring as the cold coiled around her spine and melting snowflakes soaked into her skin. She does not hear feet crunching softly towards her but she does hear the exasperated sigh that follows. 

"You're gonna freeze to death, Lalonde." 

"Nawww. Can't freeze to death when yer blood's all alcohol, DiStri. Alcohol don't freeze."

"Roxy it doesn't work that way and you know it doesn't. Get up." 

"Mmmnooope. M'fine right here. Don't even feel the cold."

"That's the opposite of comforting. How long have you been out here?"

"Dunnnnno. Hour? Two hours? Whatevs."

"Roxy, please come inside." she was silent for awhile, moving her hands from her eyes and resting them in the snow, crunching it beneath her fingers.

"But f'I give up n go inside, yer just gonna leave." she pulled her hands to her sides, shrugging. 

"If I promise to hang around for a few hours, will you come inside?" he sighed, and dropped a hand down to help her up. She nodded, her hair damp with snow by now, and grabbed onto him. "Shit, Rox, you're fucking freezing." he pulled her all the way up and drug her inside. His hands were so much warmer than the frost of her skin that she thought it might burn her, or melt something away. As she stood and started walking, feeling the stark contrast of his burning hot skin on her own frozen flesh, she finally the cold, rubbing her bare arms with her free hand self consciously. The ice in her veins no longer felt safe. It felt like it was choking her. 

"Put on some warmer clothes, like your pajamas or somethin'. I'm gonna get you a blanket and something hot to drink. You're way too fucking cold for it to be healthy." Roxy chattered her teeth in response and dug her winter pajamas out of her dresser while Dirk left for the living room and kitchen. She tugged off her damp and freezing clothes, goosebumps blooming across her skin, almost as pale as the snow she'd been laying in. The room spun dangerously as she bent down to pull on the pink fleece pajama pants, printed with little tiaras and pawprints. She closed her eyes and took a breath, willing the room to still itself before she tugged off her bra and pulled the thick cotton pink shirt over her head, crossing her arms across her chest. She knew she could have sat down on the bed or something, but she felt sort of frozen, both literally and figuratively. After a few minutes of her standing at staring blankly into space, the feeling coming back into her fingers and toes in pins and needles. 

Dirk walked in soon after, a large pink quilt bundled under one arm and a cup of what, by the smell, must have been hot coffee. 

"I put a quilt in the dryer for a few minutes. Should be nice and warm. And the coffee is hot, sweet like you like it, and it should sober you up a little." he carried both items towards her bed and set the coffee, with the handle shaped like a cat's tail, on the nightstand and he sat down, patting the bed. "Come on, come warm your drunk ass up, Lalonde." 

Wordlessly she shuffled over and sat down. To her surprise, he did not move to get up and wait at the foot of her bed, but wrapped the blanket around them both, making sure her feet were tucked into the warms folds, before taking to rubbing her arms with his hands. At first her frame is stiff with cold and shock but eventually she gives up, relaxing against him and burrowing into his arms. His skin burns as hot as the fire in her heart. She is New York winter and snowfall and ice over a river, the waters still surging deathly quick beneath the surface, and he is Texas summer and hot desert wind and lava, slow and steady but so hot it could melt you if you get too close. She leans in close to hear the thrum of his heart and remind herself that fire doesn't have to burn you alive, sometimes it just keeps you warm. 

After a time, she stops shivery, and she is no long pins and needles and ice. Her skin is warm underneath his hands and his hands are still hot to the touch, but she makes no move to shift away, and he lets her stay curled against him, silent but for the soft sound of her breathing and his hand rubbing her arm rhythmically. 

"You can't keep pulling shit like that, Roxy. Someday you're gonna go to far and not be able to come back from it." he says after awhile, but his voice is not a harsh reprimand, like she expected. It is soft and worried, a gentle reminder that people care for her even if they're bad at showing it some, or all, of the time. She nods, her head bobbing against his chest. 

"I know. I'm sorry." she reaches for the cup of coffee, previously forgotten. It's still warm in her hands and as it slips down her throat, but it doesn't burn her chest like the vodka did, just warms her gently from the inside out. 

"I know you are, Rox. Just promise not to do it again?" she nods again and holds out her pinkie. Dirk chuckles but extends his own. She laces their fingers together and curls back against him, abandoning her coffee once more, preferring the external warmth of the muscled arms she has known her whole life. 

"Will you stay with me tonight?" her voice is quiet, as if she is afraid to ask, afraid to ask for the fact that he could say no, and leave her alone to let her blood turn back to shards of ice and her skin back to sheets of snow.

"Of course, Rox. I'll always stay with you if you need me to." his voice is solemn as he runs a hand through her hair, and kisses the top of her head gently. She smiles into the sound of his heartbeat and closes her eyes, letting herself relax, because she knows the ice will never make its way into her heart, not as long as her heart belonged to a voice like the sunrise and arms like Texas sun in the middle of July and a smell like heat and summer and home.


End file.
